The Errant Bride

by Dinah McLeod

  I idly wondered if he really expected me to answer him. He was grinning at me, and I was more than a little ticked that he was making fun of me. I really wanted to yell at him, and maybe stomp my foot a few times for emphasis, but that would have only serve to prove his point. I bit down hard on my bottom lip to keep my tongue from delivering the biting remarks that were going through my mind at the moment.

  “I thought, ‘She’s a grown woman, she’s twenty-two, who does this guy think he is? Clearly, she’s too old to be treated like a child!’”

  “I am,” I blurted out, finding my voice at last.

  He just smiled at me in response. “That may be what your driver’s license says, but it’s not always how you act. I mean, really, honey, your dad spanked you not even four months ago. So, I wondered why he did it, and if there was anything to it that could help us.”

  “And he told you what?” I demanded. “‘Go on, she’s a brat, she deserves it?’”

  “Not at all, actually. He didn’t even talk about you. He told me that you got it from your mother.”

  Despite myself, I started to laugh. My mother? Come on!

  “I know, I know. It sounds funny, doesn’t it? I think your mom is one of the sweetest, most laid back women I’ve ever met. But he insisted. He was adamant that she had a temper—and a tongue with it that would make a sailor blush.”

  “Please,” I muttered.

  “He says that they struggled for awhile, that he had some of the problems I’ve been having with you. He said that he began to use domestic discipline with your mom, before it was really called that, or had a following.”

  “So now you want to carry on the family tradition?” I asked smartly.

  “Oh, come on, Sara. Haven’t you always known something was a little different with your parents? They’ve been married for over thirty years! Have you ever seen them fight?”

  I shook my head. I’d never really thought about it, but I hadn’t. Mom had always deferred to dad and they had always seemed really happy. But that didn’t mean that these rules, or whatever it was that he wanted us to do, was going to make me happy. “Does my dad know you’re telling me all this?”

  Ethan was still appraising me and he nodded. “Yes. He said it was all right, that he didn’t think you’d accept it any other way.”

  “Accept what?”

  “Domestic discipline.”

  I snorted a laugh. “OK, honey. What my parents do behind closed doors is their own business, as gross and weird as it is. But that doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to let you…um…what is it? Discipline me.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  I opened my mouth to reply, but had to close it again. I wasn’t sure how to respond. He had an answer for every argument I’d made, anyway, so what could I say that would make him drop it?

  “Why, Sara?” he repeated, and I grunted loudly in frustration.

  “Because, Ethan!”

  “Is that the best you can come up with?” he asked with a chuckle.

  “Because it’s weird. I just…my parents are, like, fifty years old, OK? Nobody does that anymore!”

  “Sometimes, we could use a little old-fashioned in our lives. You know, back in the day people fixed things when they were broken. Now, if you break a plate, or a watch, you just go and buy a new one. I don’t just want to throw us away, honey.”

  His gentle, calm tone took some of the wind out of my sails. “It was getting that bad?” I asked. “You wanted to…”

  “Not yet. But…I could see it getting that way down the road.”

  “And you really think that this…you think it would change anything?” I wasn’t being defensive this time, or hurt, I was just trying to understand him. I really wanted to figure out if this was something we could work around. Like Ethan said, I wanted us to be happy.

  “Maybe not. But we need to do something.”

  I flushed at his words. I couldn’t deny any of the things he’d said—I had cursed at him, and I had called him names. I felt awful when I think about the things I’d done to the man I claimed to love. “You never said anything before.”

  “You’re right. And I should have spoken up sooner. I kept thinking if I ignored it, it would go away, but I can’t let these type of fights continue, honey. You understand that, don’t you? If I let this type of behavior become a habit for us, then it will ruin our marriage. I don’t want that.”

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” I said as I pulled away from him. “I know you think you want to be the Head Honcho and call all the shots and whatever, but…”

  “I prefer the term Head of House,” he said, grinning for all he was worth.

  I gritted my teeth in frustration. I still couldn’t believe he thought this was funny. If it was a joke to him, why did we have to keep talking about it? I took a deep breath and sent up a small prayer, asking God to keep me calm. “I’m sorry that I did those things, honey, and I promise to get better, but I will not allow you to treat me like a child.”

  He was eyeing me speculatively, and nodded at me to continue.

  “I’m sorry, Ethan, but this isn’t the kind of life I signed up for. Maybe if I’d known you wanted to do this—whatever it is— if you had talked to me about it, maybe I would have agreed. I don’t know. You didn’t, though, so you have to live with things like they are.” Even though I’d succeeded in keeping my voice calm, when I finished talking I was glaring at him.

  “This is all new to me, too, remember. Never in my wildest dreams would I think that a man would spank his wife to keep her in line.” His eyes were gleaming, and I knew it was coming before he even opened his mouth. “Ok, maybe in my wildest.”

  “If you think this is so funny, maybe I should give it a shot and see how well you like being spanked,” I snapped at him.

  That did it. The laughter was gone from his eyes so quickly I had to wonder if I’d imagined it. “I don’t believe in the woman leading the household.”

  “Well, isn’t that convenient.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me, and I could feel my pulse pick up. “I’m sorry, it never occurred to me that I would have to tell you not to curse at me or be disrespectful.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. He was right, of course. I knew he was, but there was no way I could admit it. I wouldn’t want to give him that satisfaction.

  “What about our marriage vows? You know, to honor and obey?”

  “I never promised to obey you,” I reminded him sharply.

  He stared at me, and I knew he was seeing the rigid determination in my face. He sighed, and several moments went by without either of us speaking. I was holding my breath, because after being with Ethan for three years, I knew the signs. From the look of him, I had almost won the fight. Victory was near. “Well, if not spankings, what else do you suggest we do to get our house in order, Mrs. Harris?”

  I let my breath out in a whoosh and forced the corners of my lips down. I couldn’t afford to smile. I had to play this very, very carefully. What could I say to convince him? What could I do to make him let go? I eyed him suspiciously. Was it possible that this was a trap? I’d considered that it might be, but I couldn’t overthink it or I’d lose my advantage.

  “Let’s just go back to the ways things were,” I urged. “No rules, no spankings, just…”

  “Things can’t go back to the way they were. I won’t tolerate being disrespected, Sara.”

  “It wasn’t always like that!” I protested.

  “You’re right. But I’d say a single harsh word is one too many, wouldn’t you?” His eyes were locked onto mine, waiting for an answer. Even though I was looking down at the carpet, I could feel him watching me. I nodded in agreement, but said nothing. “I will try it your way, Sara.”

  My eyes leapt back up to search his face, looking for any sign of teasing or anger. I saw none, and I felt relieved. “You will?”

  “Yes. We will go back to the way things were—no rules, no roles.”

  Victory! I knew
it! I wanted to pump my fist in the air. I was biting my lip so hard to keep from smiling that I was close to tasting blood.

  “But that means I expect you to change, and do it without my help,” he finished.

  I couldn’t help but snort at the comment—if he thought his spankings were “helping” me then he didn’t know me half as well as I’d given him credit for!

  “Without my help,” he repeated firmly, and I nodded solemnly, hoping that it would ease the sternness in his voice. “And if you break any of the rules here—”

  “Wait a second!” I screeched. “You said we weren’t going to have rules.”

  “Sara, these are common courtesies for any relationship. I shouldn’t have to tell you to abide by them.”

  “OK,” I replied meekly. “You’re right.” I was rewarded for my submissive words with a smile.

  “Thank you. Now, I’m going to add these here—” He reached over and grabbed the paper off the table, scooping up a pen that’s lying next to it. “These are things we’ve already discussed. I am writing here that any money you spend will be written down in the checkbook, and that we will talk to each other and agree before any large purchases are made.”

  I scowled at him. I knew there was a catch—but he wasn’t done yet.

  “You think you can do this on your own? Fine, go ahead and try. But if I agree to that, Sara, then you agree that if you do mess up, you will be punished in whatever way I see fit.” He held up a hand almost as if knew a protest was on my lips. “If that happens, then going forward we will try things my way.”

  “So, what you’re saying is—”

  “If you can’t speak to me respectfully, if you can’t make my dinner and clean the house like you agreed to do, then I will spank you. You told me you could do these things if you had a mind to. Prove it— show me that you don’t need me to lead you. If you can keep those promises without any prompting from me, great, we’re both happy. If not, I will spank you. And when I do, you will agree to all of it: the rules, the punishments, and being my obedient wife. And you will do it willingly, without resentment.”

  It was a lot to take in. I wanted to protest, I wanted to tell him that he still wasn’t being fair, but why bother? I was getting what I wanted—he was agreeing to let things go back to normal, so where was the point in arguing? Besides, I knew that none of those things would ever happen. I knew what I was doing, I could control myself.

  “Deal,” I agreed, giddy. I even stuck my hand out.

  The corners of Ethan’s mouth twitched up, but he tried to look serious as he took my hand and shook it.

  I started laughing, and I threw my arms around him. I was so excited and relieved to be free! Now that I didn’t have to worry about being spanked all the time, I finally felt like I could breathe again!

  “Thank you, thank you!” I squealed.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, but the smile didn’t seem to reach his eyes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m a little hurt that you’re so excited about not having me lead our marriage. I didn’t think I was treating you so badly, Sara.”

  “Oh, you weren’t.” I waved a hand dismissively. “But things will be better this way. You’ll see. I’ll be happier, and I will do better, Ethan. I promise.”

  “OK. I trust you. Just remember our deal.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Is there any chance you will let me forget?”

  We spent the rest of the day curled up on the couch watching TV. When it was time for lunch, I didn’t feel like cooking, so I picked up the phone and ordered a pizza. When I had set the phone down, expecting to go back to being happily cuddled in his lap, I noticed that Ethan’s jaw was clenched. He didn’t say anything when I sat beside him, and he answered any comment I made with grunted syllables.

  What on earth could be wrong with him now? I wondered in exasperation. Was he still pouting?

  It wasn’t until the pizza man came and I was setting out plates that I remembered: we had talked earlier about saving money and not eating out. I should have asked him if it would be OK to order the pizza, or made us PB&Js. As soon as the thought occurred to me, though, I dismissed it. How ridiculous was it that I couldn’t make my own decisions? It was not like I didn’t make my own money. It wasn’t like we couldn’t afford a pizza every now and again!

  I spent a few minutes mentally preparing my defense as I stole worried glances at Ethan. I couldn’t believe I had already blown it! If my legs could reach, I would have kicked myself.

  I fixed us plates of supreme deep dish and bread sticks and walked back to the couch, hoping he didn’t notice how nervous I was. Maybe I could convince him to forgive this one mistake. He looked up from the TV to mumble his thanks, and then went back to ignoring me. I scooted back into his lap and leaned against his chest, determined to pretend that everything was fine. At least he couldn’t see my face this way! I would have hated to give away how anxious I was.

  After a few minutes my breathing evened out, and I felt my pulse returning to normal. I turned my attention back to the movie and enjoyed my pizza. As scene after scene changed, I relaxed completely. Maybe I had been wrong. Maybe he didn’t care about me ordering the pizza, after all.

  Before the end of the movie I’d stopped worrying about it, and was even feeling happy about the future. I was so relieved that I’d finally been able to get through to him and help him see things through my eyes. I was so glad he loved me enough to really listen to me. I mean, sure, this change was conditional, and I had that hanging over me, but I was determined to be such a good wife that he would forget all about it.

  “I love you,” I murmured, snuggling closer to him, as if I could erase any barrier that ever existed between us.

  Chapter 5

  I really tried to keep my promise to Ethan. Things started out well enough. For a little while, I was able to juggle it all: work, cleaning house, the cooking, all while keeping my tongue in check. At first, it all seemed relatively easy and I was quite pleased with myself. I made the bed, and wiped the kitchen counters each morning, humming to myself. Twice in that first week I even got up early to make breakfast for him! I was definitely rocking the housewife gig, and I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. I just knew I could do it. Piece of cake.

  Surprisingly, Ethan didn’t offer any comment on my amazing turnaround. It was starting to get to me, so one morning over cornflakes and orange juice—I didn’t say they were complicated breakfasts, or anything—I took a deep breath and asked him.

  “Honey,” I said, my voice as velvety as warm honey, “I have been trying pretty hard and you…well, you haven’t said much. Aren’t you proud of me?”

  Ethan smiled warmly at me and patted his leg. I eagerly went to him, excited to hear the compliments I was sure he would shower me with. “I am proud of you.”

  I beamed at him with pleasure. Of course he was. He had every reason to be, after all.

  “You’re doing great, baby, but…”

  What? There was a but? But why?

  “It’s still early yet,” he finished.

  I felt my face falling in disappointment. What did he mean, it was still early? What more could the man possibly want from me? Did he want me to ladle my own blood and call it punch? Sheesh!

  “We both need to give it awhile for these things to become routine, and for me to see that you’ve really changed.”

  Maybe you should get your prescription changed, if you can’t see it, I wanted to say, but I bit my lip and swallowed the words back down. Instead, I leapt up and went back to the counter busying myself with wiping it, even though the surface was already shiny-clean.

  “Don’t be discouraged, honey. I think you’re doing a great job and I believe you’ll perfect it one of these days.”

  I glanced up and I saw that he was still smiling at me, but I quickly dropped my eyes. I had been stupid to think that a couple of smiles and breakfasts meant we—meant I was done, and could relax. No, he still planned to s
ee this stupid thing through! Was I going to have to keep this up forever? The thought was daunting.

  I couldn’t even look at him for the rest of the morning. My cheeks were burning with equal parts shame and anger. I couldn’t believe what a fool I’d been. I couldn’t believe I’d ever even agreed to his stupid idea in the first place. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have it hanging over my head and I would still be in bed, starring in some last minute dreams.

  I had to practically chew through my tongue to keep myself from saying something. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t seem to let it go, either. I didn’t bring the subject up again, but as day after day passed without any comment on the clean house or the home cooked meals, I felt myself getting angrier. It had gotten to the point that every time I saw him or heard his voice it just fueled my anger.

  I couldn’t help myself, even though I didn’t tell him why I was mad, I started to snap at him over little things. I started to let the housework slip. Just a bit, at first, but by the second week since our agreement, I was letting the dishes pile up in the sink. I found myself eyeing the mountains of laundry that were piling up with disdain, and continuing to ignore them as I found better things to do.

  A few days later even dinner seemed too large a chore. I kept managing to get it table, but it seemed to arrive later each night. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore, and I ordered a pizza. That night I had made plans with a girlfriend from work, so after I wrote Ethan a note I put the pizza in the oven to stay warm. I didn’t come home until long after he was already in bed, and when I saw the half eaten pizza on the counter a jolt of apprehension shot through me. With sudden clarity, I remembered the terms of our agreement.

  I climbed the staircase as slowly as I would have approached my own execution. I slid into bed as quietly as possible, staring hard at Ethan’s back. I willed him to feel my eyes, and wake up, but he didn’t. I briefly considered shaking him awake so that I could confess my sin, but there was really no need. He knew I didn’t make dinner. With dread in my stomach I tossed and turned for over an hour, turning it all over in my mind. I fully expected to be scolded and possibly spanked the next morning. With those thoughts in mind I fell into a fitful sleep, certain that I had enjoyed my last night of freedom.